Video Game Woes: One Writer’s Perspective

Rhymes with Crazy

I used to think of video games as inherently evil and those who played them as greasy, hairy little dudes dwelling in basements, away from the sunlight and other people.

This was an incredibly harsh and narrow viewpoint to take, and it was proven quite silly once I actually met people who enjoyed playing video games and discovered that in addition to shooting up virtual worlds, they also read books, played cards, shaved, and got plenty of sun. It was the Fiance, who, while we were on our first date, told me that he thought I might enjoy playing certain video games because I liked to write fantasy. It was he who got me through the first few hours of running into walls and dying every thirty seconds: he who introduced me to characters and world-building as thorough and beautiful as any in my favorite tomes.

But I still don’t…

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Let Go of your Wrongs and Just Write

kismatandkarma

Anyone who has ever written a prose or short story with an inkling of heartfelt emphasis can offer their two rupaiyas on writing.

Writing is not as methodical as science nor does it produce universally proof-based results as math. Courses on writing can help to improve the structure and strength of a prose or paragraph but the ultimate inspiration has to come from within.

Tips for Writing

1. He or She?

What a better example of the exclusion of my gender than the way our pronouns have been historically ignored in writing.

I have great trouble quoting yesteryear writers for they most notably limited their wisdom for “man” and “his” needs, as a means to encompass all of humanity, thereby excluding women in the discussion. By absorbing such ideas, such a default became ingrained in our words, written or spoken.

Thankfully, our awareness has become richer to represent every human…

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Inquiring Minds

A thousand tears

polaroidprocrastination

We all cry because we all hurt. Whether people see us cry or we do it alone in our houses at night, we’re all doing it.
And it’s hard to know that at any point, your best friend could be screaming as tears full her eyes and fall from her face. That angel may have finally fallen to her knees and can’t get up…
She might feel helpless and alone and she may never tell you and as you tell her it’s alright and you hurt inside, you’ll probably never tell her you’re dying too.
Or you might be one of those who, like me, let the anxiety and the weight of it all build up. It brews heavily inside you; starting in your stomach when you lose an appetite, and then it goes to your head and you can’t focus or see straight anymore. Then it becomes overwhelming and…

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writing for an audience of one

The Anonymity Calamity

cor meum

After posting some of my writing on my university’s anonymous crush declaration page, and receiving an unexpectedly brilliant response, I finally decided to take the time to create my own blog. Previously, my thoughts were confined to the Notes application on my iPhone, or in text messages to unsuspecting dear friends in discussing related subjects.

I’ve always felt that writing is freeing, and felt the word-avalanche once I’ve started.

Although I’ve always been bummed at not being able to write narrative stories or poetry or song lyrics. These do not come easily to me. What I can write about, however, is my life experiences. I enjoy searching for the words that express my emotions perfectly.
The way that indescribable feelings can become more tangible, more under control, and less threatening once I find out exactly what they mean to me and why they have such an immense impact.
I’ve…

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Fear

polaroidprocrastination

This Christmas, I have no fear. I need not fear the disapproval and disappointment that fills my mothers eyes as my present isn’t good enough. I need not fear a boyfriend that will exploit or use me. I need not fear that I won’t be safe, because I’ll be safer than I’ve ever been.
Last Christmas, I was in a relationship where I was beaten blue and numb. My brother told me I had to find a way out, any way, and he’d help me, but deep in my soul, I loved this guy because he was my first proper boyfriend and I was experiencing that fall for the first time. We had planned the new year in his holiday home in Cornwall and it all seemed well and good if you were on the other side of the glass. But I knew that I’d be sharing a bed with…

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Imagine this

polaroidprocrastination

You’ve just got in from a long day at school. You open your front door having walked home, but the house is empty. All the lights are off and from the darkness, your dog, your childhood best friend, greets you happily. His tail is wagging so fast, beating from wall to wall and his expression is of pure delight, as if you’d been gone for weeks.
Slowly, you trudge up the stairs and past all of the baby photos that hang wearily on the cream coloured wall. You look so happy there, so full of life and there are pictures of you and your brothers playing joyfully and on family holidays abroad. Your eyes sparkle a bright, piercing blue and your brunette hair is long as it curls over your shoulders and down your back. Your brother is there, with his matching blue eyes and a beaming smile. He’s wearing…

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Bipolarism

polaroidprocrastination

Being bipolar isn’t all the hype people big it up to be- it’s not that one minute you’re ridiculously happy and the next you want to murder someone, no.
To me, it means that I have the capability to be very happy but within minutes, my mood might deteriorate. I don’t know if it’s just being coupled with my depression, but that’s what it is to me.
It’s generally noticeable when I’m beginning to turn, as I’m sure my friends good tell you, but unfortunately there’s nothing I can to do prevent the certain unhappiness that is to follow. Occasionally tears form in my eyes, but the classic sign is that I go completely silent and just stare. I just stare at nothing or right through people and then it kicks in.
As I mentioned, it could just be that I’m chronically depressed and I do feel ecstatic from time…

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A Work in Progress

cor meum

Those late-night conversations are what I miss most. Those baring soul-to-soul exchanges.The way the early morning hours encourage honesty and bravery, that the regular day-time simply does not. How “I love you”, “I want you” and “Fuck you” all seem to glide off the tongue. Effortlessly. Ordinarily.

There’s something sacred about being awake with someone, when sleep has enveloped the rest of the world.
Something undoubtedly more private.

Our eyelids linger, longer with each blink. Sticky. Willing us to keep them shut. But sleeping would mean missing out on this. Missing out on you.
Even though it’s long since been extinguished, we continue to light this toxic, exhausted flame.
Occasionally only, when self-righteousness reaches the end of its thread, and we need a guilt-drenched fix.

Sleep slurs our speech. Hanging heavily on our tongues. A hopeful reminder. That instead of slumber, we choose each other, even if just for…

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